


Tangerine

by gutterandthestars



Series: Twelvetide 2020/2021 [4]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Booker's dreadful coping mechanisms, Gen, Nile Knows Whats Up, Ostracism isn't going to work, pre-book of nile if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutterandthestars/pseuds/gutterandthestars
Summary: Written for the Twelvetide Drabbles Challenge 2020/2021 for the prompt 'tangerine', for 27th December 2020.***Booker's in a sad state. Nile is not having it.***
Series: Twelvetide 2020/2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095605
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30
Collections: Twelvetide Drabbles 2020





	Tangerine

“S’up,” says a voice. Booker startles and drops his flask. Fuck. It’ll dent. Oh well.

He looks up and sees Nile Freeman sitting on the end of his lonely bench in this Parisian park. She’s wearing a puffy orange bomber jacket that makes her look like a tangerine.

She looks good. She shouldn’t be here. He’s sure she shouldn’t be here.

Nile is wearing the same expression she wears in all of his few memories of her; a potent combination of confused, surprised and faintly appalled. It’s as if he can hear her, in his head: _“Damn, Le Livre, aren’t you old enough to be more together than this?”_

He doesn’t know what exactly she’s expecting of him.

In fact, she’s silent, although her eyebrows are drawing together in a more pronounced frown. He remembers she’s waiting for him to respond and shakes himself.

“Uh, Nile. Good day.” They’re speaking French. It must have been a while. 

“Fucking hell, Booker,” she spits. “When’s the last time you died of alcohol poisoning? ‘Cause you look like you’re about due.”

“Fuck you too,” he slurs.

“Jesus wept,” she curses, in English. Then she grabs his arm. What? He blinks at her, still not sure if she’s real.

“I mean it, you shithead, I’m worried about you,” she tells him, and pulls him to his feet.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says. 

“Yeah, well lots of us aren’t supposed to do lots of things, but look around. The world’s a fucking dumpster fire and no-one asked my permission to strike the match. I’m not going to sit and read Copley’s reports about you and watch you kill yourself over and over. Fuck you for even trying. I’ve lost enough family over the years, and I’m done with losing you. We’re getting coffee.”

Booker doesn’t really know what to say to that outburst. He supposes he should feel _something_. Hey, look at that. Numbness. He’s finally succeeded.

Nile must see something else, thought, since she grabs his elbow and starts to tow him out of the park.

“Slow down, kid. No rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

“The fuck you’re not, you’re coming with me for coffee and sobering up and then we, my brother, are going to work out what happens next. Spoiler alert: it does not involve me leaving you to die cold and alone on a park bench.”

“No, no,” he mumbles, and he’s not being clear, that’s not what he means. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says. 

“Booker, I am not leaving…”

“Nile!” he says, turning towards her and grasping her shoulders. She scowls back at him. “I’m trying to say, stay. Don’t leave me on that bench. I want… I want to…” 

He stops, overcome by the enormity of what he wants. Andy, Quynh, Joe and Nicky. Nile, citrus coat and all. He looks into her deep brown eyes.

Then finally, finally, he sees her smile.


End file.
